


The Red Scarf

by Martha_Devereux



Category: British Actor RPF, Richard Armitage - Fandom, Richard Armitage/OFC - Fandom
Genre: F/M, I really do apologize in advance, May cause the following, Sniffling, Soggy Eyes, Wet Tissues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-20
Updated: 2013-09-02
Packaged: 2017-12-24 02:27:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 5,875
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/934104
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Martha_Devereux/pseuds/Martha_Devereux





	1. The Market Square

-Chapter 1-

She stood there gazing at him from across the crowded market square.  He tried desperately to conceal his handsome six foot two frame in the bustling mass of people, but even as they went to and fro like little ants, he was obvious.   She followed the movement of his red scarf in the crowd.  She sighed audibly, feeling the heaviness in her chest.  He would never know her.  They were ‘needle in a haystack’ odds, and her chances were slim. 

Drawing a deep breath, she started to turn to leave when she realized that he had in fact disappeared.  She didn’t think it was possible, but like a mystical creature he had eluded her sight.  She stood still a moment longer and recalled the first time she had seen his face, the intensity of his blue eyes staring back at her from the laptop screen.  His lips were thin and stern but when he smiled there was a brilliance she had never known.  There was an underlying warmth and shyness in his face, a face that stirred within her a longing she had not known.  How she wanted to touch that face.

Finally forcing her feet to move, she walked forward, her petiteness making the lightest _click-clack_ on the concrete sidewalk.  She made slow progress, but maybe that was purposefully.  She felt a slight tingling feeling wash over her.  She stopped completely, turning around in every direction.  Where was this feeling coming from?  She felt panic rising within herself. 

There were heavy steps behind her, and they were moving fast.  Something brushed the edge of her hand.  The electricity of skin to skin contact caused her to gasp.  That’s when she saw it, the red scarf, fleeing into the crowd again.  He turned his head slightly, casting a backward glance over his shoulder as he continued his pace.  The corner of his mouth curled upwards into a little smile before tipping his head down again.  She fought for breath.  She was certain she had seen it… she must have.

_No, no, no, no... Please don’t take a cab._

She rushed forward, pushing her way through the crowd.   She started running when she hit an open space in the square, long ginger hair flying out behind her.  He was still on foot but he moved so fast with his long strides.

_Red scarf.  Red scarf.  Red scarf.  Focus._

He ducked in the door of Bellkelley’s Pub.  She raced for the door, heels clicking away the seconds.  The pub door was open leaving a gaping mouth of darkness in the façade of the building.  She put her foot on the step to go inside when a hand hit the door frame and a body came quickly into view.  The red scarf filled her vision.  Startled, she stumbled back slightly and barely kept her footing.  She looked up quickly, eyes wide with some degree of anxiety.  He leaned his shoulder against the doorway, one arm still barring the way.  His eyes flickered back and forth as if reading her.  He watched her taking short shallow breaths in her feeble attempts to steady herself.  The world around her seemed to stop entirely, and she could hear only her faint heartbeat in the distance.

He tipped his head slightly, his brow furrowed.  He didn’t know what to make of her.  He had seen her across the market too, red hair in a sea of madness, a beacon in the darkness.  She had stood there staring, pale rose lips parted.  He could not help but to brush her hand in the crowd and feeling the exhilaration caused by this small contact.  He had secretly hoped that she would follow… he prayed for it.  And now, she stood before him a speechless little creature.  His lips curled into a smirk and a look of mischief crossed his face.  When he opened his mouth and spoke at last the silence that had engulfed them shattered like glass.

“I _do_ believe you have been following me,” he said in a deep tone just above a whisper.  She flushed a deep crimson.  Her embarrassment was evident.  She struggled to find the words she sought but even her thoughts were nothing more than a stammer.

“M-M-Mr. Armitage….. I am truly s-s-sorry.”


	2. Vanishing Act

-Chapter 2-

“And I _also_ believe that _‘Mr. Armitage’_ would be my father,” he replied in a moment of pure cheekiness.   He extended his hand to her and watched as she stared at it.  It seemed an eternity before she reached her hand out to accept his.  The velvety feel of his strong hand against hers made her resolve falter.  He felt her trembling within his grasp, and yet he could not bring himself to let go, running his thumb lightly over her knuckles.  “You _can_ call me Richard.”

A nervous laugh escaped her lips as the voice inside her head squealed with delight, but no words could she utter.  Her look was one of terror mingled with joy.  Taking some degree of pity on her, he released her hand and gazed at her intently.

A sudden wind picked up behind her, blowing her hair across her face and every which way.  Her hands flailed around trying to regain control of it, and when it was finally put to rights, he was gone.  She looked all around the pub, and there was no sign of him.  She hurried over to the bar.

“Where’s the gentleman that was just here?” she asked the bartender.

“What gentleman?  There ain’t been anyone here, miss… just you.”

“No… truly…. I was just talking to him.  He was very tall and had a red scarf.  We were right there at the door.  Surely you had seen him.  He’d be rather hard to miss,” she answered with exasperation.

_He was here.  I know he was.  I touched him.  I could smell his scent.  He couldn’t just disappear… could he?_

“Are you on something, miss?” he asked, giving her a queer look.  She dashed over to the door to demonstrate with her hands where he had stood in the door.

“We were right here,” she gasped.  She went to lay her hand upon the doorframe where his hand had been.  A static shock caused her to yelp when she touched it.  It was as if she could feel his energy lingering within the wood.  Pressing her forehead against the frame, she closed her eyes as a single tear rolled down her cheek.

_Why is this happening?  I don’t understand._

“Either you need to drink more… or drink less, miss.  Whatever the case, maybe you ought to get home and sleep it off.”

She tipped her head back, sniffling and blinking back more tears. She glanced at the bartender, pursing her lips and nodding almost beyond notice.  He gave her a quick wink of encouragement.

“Sleep it off,” he called out to her as she stepped out into the open air.

***

Daylight had run away, leaving the descending nighttime in its wake.  Ornamental lights twinkled like stars in the potted trees around the square.  Small, intimate cafes and restaurants spilled their amber light out onto the pavement as a few stragglers from the day made their way home. 

The air was cool against her warm cheeks.  Hustling towards her apartment building with her arms wrapped tightly around herself, she allowed her tears to flow freely.  She entered her building and took the stairs two at a time until she finally reached the third floor.  After fumbling with her keys for several moments, she finally managed to let herself in, slamming the door soundly behind her.

She stripped off her coat and shoes and padded barefoot through the dark apartment.  Giving a fleeting glance out the window at the sparkling square below, she sighed. 

_Like an autumn leaf, the wind carried him away._

Throwing herself on the bed, she sobbed herself to sleep.


	3. Coffee Conundrum

-Chapter 3-

Early morning light crept through the window casting its soft rays across her face.  She stirred fitfully, hands clenched and brows furrowed.  Rolling on her side, she was faced with the crimson numbers on the clock.  She sat up, swinging her legs over the side of the bed.  The floor was ice cold against her naked toes.  She meandered towards the bathroom to clean herself up.  She emerged washed and clothed but still tired.

_Coffee.  Food.  Sustenance._

She pulled on her coat, slipped on her sneakers, and bounded out the door in a funk.  There was still a gloom hanging over her.

The sun shone bright on the crowded market square this morning.  The world still turned regardless of her personal darkness.  She moved briskly towards a small café on the other side of the square.  She knew the place well as she frequented it often, mostly because she chose not to cook at home.  It wasn’t that she was lazy, but she felt that cooking was something that was best left to ‘other people.’

The workers at the café gave her a nod of acknowledgement as she entered.  There were sounds of clattering cups and plates and idle chatter creating a cacophony of noise.  She seated herself at a table in front of the window, a muffin and cup of coffee arriving as if by magic, but more by habit.  She tipped well… and they all knew it.  She picked at the muffin, consuming it one small chunk at a time.  She snatched up a newspaper from an abandoned table near her and proceeded to read, occasionally sipping her decidedly cold coffee.

She was completely engrossed in an article when suddenly something fell on the table before her.  A flowery scent filled the air.  Closing the paper, she found a small branch of lilacs lying on the table.  She carefully picked it up and on closer inspection there was a string of red wool that looked like it had come from the end of a scarf neatly tied around the branch, and she could only stare at it.  She felt a warm breath laced with a deep voice against her ear.  She closed her eyes.

“Rumor has it they’re you favorite,” the voice whispered from behind her.   She could faintly recognize the masculine scent from the day before.

“I’m going mad, aren’t I?” she muttered.

“No,” he replied, so close that his lips brushed her earlobe, “not at all.”

She kept her eyes tightly shut, fearing that if she should open them he would disappear.  He pressed his cheek against hers.  It felt like fire on her skin.  Her eyes flew open, and in her peripheral vision she could make out the strong features of his profile.

“Why did you leave without saying goodbye yesterday?” she found the courage to ask.  He exhaled audibly.

“I cannot apologize for that,” he started, taking a few strands of her hair between his fingers and admiring their silkiness before letting them fall away.  “It was necessary.”

She turned around in her chair to face him.  The look on his face was intense yet indeterminable.  An urge within her was overwhelming.  She reached up to touch his face but in a flash he caught her hand in his before she could do so, leaning his head back defensively.  Startled and confused by his sudden movement, she jumped, gasping slightly.

“Not yet,” he said quietly.  He tipped his head down closer to hers again and spoke almost shyly.  “Do you trust me?”

He awaited an answer, her hand still clasped tightly in his. He held it to his chest.  She could feel him breathe, chest rising and falling.

_Breathing in, breathing out._

“Do you… trust me?” he repeated almost impatiently.  She nodded affirmatively.  He stood quickly and pulled her to her feet.  He pressed his lips to the palm of her hand and let them linger there for a moment.  “Good.”

He pulled away from her and dashed out the door without so much as another word.  She race to the door just in time to see him disappear into the crowd.  She pressed her kissed palm to her cheek, and she thought for sure she would combust.

“I fear I truly shall run mad,” she told herself as she turned to walk back to her table.


	4. Secret Wishes

-Chapter 4-

She dropped off her lilacs at her apartment, placing them in a glass of water in the window.    Back outside in the square, she stood for several minutes deciding what the day would bring.  She crossed her arms and tapped the toe of her sneaker on the pavement.

_Books.  I can’t go wrong with books._

She hurried to the edge of the street and hailed a cab, directing the driver to a small shop hidden deep within the city’s heart.  It was a small ancient shop wedged in between two very modern looking buildings.  The widows were mostly obscured by layers of books and dust.  She pushed the door open, listening to the tinkling of the bells at the top.  The smell of aged paper filled her nose.  She took a deep breath and moved slowly between the shelves.  She loved this shop.  No one ever bothered her here.  She shopkeeper, Maddy, spent the majority of _her_ time reading books of her own. 

She let her fingers brush the book spines as she wandered aimlessly, stopping at one particular book, ‘ _North & South’ _by Elizabeth Gaskell.  She found she was secretly delighted that no one had yet purchased it.  She glanced around before flipping the book open to one of her favorite parts, and she knew this because she had diligently dog-eared them all.  She leaned against the shelves behind her, reading the passage again.  Her whole body relaxed, shoulders slumping as smiled and sighed to herself.

_Oh Margaret…. You are such a silly girl.  For one so clever you are awfully blind._

She walked back towards the front of the shop; her nose still buried deep in the book, and flung herself down on a worn leather sofa that was nestled within the piles of literature.  Several hours had passed as she read on.  Finally, she thought she would do Maddy the honor of loitering no longer.  Clapping the book shut, she walked to the shelf she retrieved it from.  She heard the bells on the door as it opened and closed and chose to disregard it.  She took one last moment to read the final two pages.

“If only I could find a Thornton of my own,” she said softly as she reached up to shelve the book.  A hand came up and covered hers as she was pushing the book back into place, the familiar warm breath at her ear.

“And I am in desperate need of a Margaret,” he stated quietly.  He leaned his forehead against the crown of her head, inhaling deeply the scent of her hair.  He lightly nuzzled her copper strands.  “How is it that you have come to invade my every waking thought?”

“And how is it that you always know where I will be?” she asked, becoming all too aware of the butterflies in her stomach.  No matter how hard she willed it, she couldn’t stamp out the fluttering feeling. 

“Birds of a feather, my chickadee,” he replied with a slight laugh.  She laid her head against his chest, and he wrapped his strong arms around her, pulling her closer.  After several minutes he unwound his arms and took her hand in his.  He started to pull her along with him. “Come.”

She allowed herself to be led out into the street.  The autumn afternoon light was fading, and the air was starting to cool.  Realizing that she was shivering a little, he wrapped his red scarf around her neck then took her hand again.  They walked for several blocks.  They said nothing, but then again, there didn’t seem to be any need to.  They bought hotdogs from a street vendors cart and ate them as they strolled along, laughing about the messy hands from mustard and relish. 

He loved her laugh.  It was light and uninhibited.  Her humor came with ease once she forgot her anxiety.  He understood her angst because he felt it too.  His own shyness hindered him in a lot of situations, but with her it was never there.  He had never been so forthright with a woman before, especially one he hardly knew.  He was always so careful, spending copious amounts of time getting to know someone before allowing them access to his person.  He was incapable of guarding himself against her; she floated through his barrier as if it didn’t exist.

They moved along, arm in arm, until they reached the market square.  Now it was _she_ who was pulling _him_.  She kept pointing to the fountain at the squares center and tugging him.  He laughed and playfully resisted her urging.  Letting go of his arm, she leapt forward and started sprinting across the square, laughing.  He chased after her, watching his own red scarf flapping about behind her.  He overtook her without effort and cut her off in her path.

“You’re insane,” he rasped, his face slightly flushed.

“I have to make a wish,” she replied, extracting two coins from her pocket.  She pressed one into his hand.  “Make a wish with me?”

He looked down at her.  Her smiling face beamed up at him like a thousand suns.  He couldn’t help giving into her.  She rendered him defenseless.

“But I already have my wish,” he answered, flashing a coy smile at her.  She pulled him closer to the fountain.  She stepped up onto the edge of the pool, balancing precariously on the stone.  She glanced down at him as he stood beside her.

“Then make another wish,” she said, clutching her coin in her hand.  “And you’d better make it count… on three.”

She counted them down, and they both flipped their coins.  They stared as the small metal disks spun in the air, eventually pinging off the fountains statue and dropping into the water.  She seemed satisfied and turned to face him.  He grabbed her waist to steady her.  She gazed at him with a renew brilliance.

“I feel like I’ve known you for a hundred years,” he remarked.  Without warning, she took his face in her hands and leaned hers down close.

“How do you know you haven’t?” she whispered, pressing her lips firmly against his.


	5. Waking Dreams

-Chapter 5-

She woke with a start, face down and feet hanging over the end of the bed.  Pushing herself up on her elbows, she looked around.  The first shreds of daylight were creeping through the windows though the sun had yet to make its appearance.  Sitting up, she realized she was still in her tee shirt and jeans from the day before.  Squinting, she looked around the gray apartment.

_Everything’s the same as it ever was._

She got up and tread softly into the kitchen feeling that recapturing sleep would be impossible. She never bothered with the lights as she knew everything by touch, filling her kettle and grabbing the jar of teabags from the cupboard.  She leaned against the counter, deep in thought, waiting for the water to boil.

_It must have been a dream.  I imagined it all.  I kissed him and then there was….. I don’t remember.  I don’t remember.  How could I not remember if it was real?_

The kettle whistled, and she poured her tea.  Sitting quietly in the darkness of the kitchen, she sipped from her mug, sighing from time to time.  Walking into the living room, she meandered towards the sofa.  She could just make out a blanket in the dim light, but thought she may have left it there the day before.  As she reached down to grab it, there was movement and gentle steady breathing from beneath.  Alarmed, she let out a piercing scream, stumbling backwards and falling over the coffee table.  She scampered across the room and crouched against the wall, breathing erratically.

He scrambled from beneath the blanket, trying to get to his feet and find the light switch.  He fumbled with it for a moment before the lamp brought illumination to the room.  He stood there nearly bent double trying to catch his breath from his own fright.

“Oh my god!” he exclaimed.  “I am so… sorry.  It was so late, and and you said it’d be all right.”

He rushed around the table, apologizing profusely.  He helped her to her feet, feeling her shaking in his grasp.  Pulling her into a tight embrace, he tried to calm her.  He suddenly felt something wet against his chest.  Looking down, he knit his brow at what he saw.  Tears were streaming down her cheeks as she clutched her right arm.

“Oh, my chickadee,” he lamented, kissing her forehead and brushing a few errant strands of hair from her face.  “Shhhh… it’s okay.  Let’s get that cleaned up.”

He led her to the kitchen and lifted her up onto the counter next to the sink.  He dampened a towel he pulled from a nearby drawer and proceeded to dab her cut.  Her tears had subsided as she watched him.  He retrieved some gauze from the bathroom and carefully bandaged her arm.  He leaned down and gave it a gentle kiss before shooting her a magnificent smile.

“It was almost fatal,” he said, winking at her and grinning.  “But I’m pretty sure I saved you in time.”

This elicited a laugh in spite of herself.  He helped her down and steered her towards the bedroom.  She glanced back at him with a raised brow that made him chuckle.  He gestured for her to lie down on the bed.

“What are you playing at?” she asked, narrowing her eyes.

“Trust me,” he answered sweetly.  “My intentions are of the purest.”

As she lay down, he climbed onto the bed beside her.  He snuggled close, wrapping his arms around her.  He reached up and lightly stroked her hair until he heard her breathing slow and felt her body relax into sleep.  He sighed contentedly and drifted off as well.


	6. Through the Veil

-Chapter 6-

The sound of squealing tires and a car horn tore through her dreams like a knife.  There was a monotonous beeping in her head.  It wasn’t the sort of sound an alarm clock makes, and it droned on.  Pulsating lights and vague faces started filling her vision.  She was overwhelmed by a feeling of chaos and panic.

_Beep… Beep… Beep… Beep…_

She woke up breathing heavily, her entire body covered in a light sweat.  As she sat on the bed, she could see through to the living room.  The late afternoon light shone through the windows, bathing the room in gold and copper tones.  He stood by the window looking out onto the square below, his hands holding the casement tightly. His head was bowed in a moment of quiet reverie.

She stood in the bedroom door watching him for some time, admiring his strong frame.  Smiling to herself, she wondered about him.  He had fallen into her world like the coin in the fountain.  An ill-timed ping could have sent him in any direction, but he moved in hers.  Just then she realized that this wasn’t just silence… this was sadness.  It was emanating from him in massive waves.  Like an ocean tide, it washed over her.

Feeling he was being watched, he slowly turned his head to glance over his shoulder.  His eyes were swollen and wet with tears, and the look was one of knowing.  But of knowing what, she could not fathom.  He turned and leaned against the window frame, clasping one hand tightly over his mouth and a pained expression on his face.  His entire frame was convulsing as he sobbed.  Her heart clenched.

_This is grief.  He is mourning._

She rushed towards him, arms outstretched and ready to comfort.  She stopped in sudden horror.  They both saw it immediately… her arm.  There was no bandage.  There was no cut.  There was only the faintest of scars.  The lilacs in the window looked as if they had never seen water, dead blossoms had fallen all around and the glass caked heavily with dust. 

Looking back at him, she saw the beard.  It was not the sort of beard that comes from not shaving for a few days.  It was the kind that comes from weeks of neglect.  His hair was shaggy and unkempt.  His whole appearance gutted her.  He didn’t look this way just this morning.  She remembered the smoothness of his face and calmness of his clear blue eyes.  It had all melted away like snow in spring.

Her vision started to blur.  Unknown faces clouded her eyes, and the feeling of panic returned.  Her arms flailed about trying to grasp at anything near to her.  She couldn’t breathe.  She tried hard to catch her breath, but no air would come.  As her knees started to buckle beneath her, strong arms caught her.  He knelt on the floor with her clutched to him, rocking her gently as he cried harder than ever.  His chest heaved with every sob.  He pressed his face to hers.

“I thought we had more time,” he sputtered through his tears.  “I just need more time… Please, chickadee, please.  I need you here… I need you.”

Her eyes were now misted with tears.  She managed to reach up and stroke his cheek, her eyes locking with his.  She gave a weak smile as her body went slack.  For the first time in her recollection, she heard him call her name.

“Emma!!” he screamed with deepening rage and anguish.  “Emma, don’t go!!”

_Beep… Beep… Beep… Beep… Beeeeeeeeeep…_


	7. Parting Ways

-Chapter 7-

The chaos engulfed her.  Doctors and nurses moved around her, faces covered, reassuring her with empty statements.  The faint noise of machines clicking and beeping filled the background.  Her eyes darted about, looking for her one source of comfort.  She was panicking now.  She fought to move, but was being held down by numerous hands.  They commanded her to be still but she wouldn’t hear them.  She held her head up slightly, trying to see, the bright lights overhead causing her to squint.  She was horrified by what she saw.

_Blood.  There’s blood everywhere.  Oh my god, I’m covered in it!!_

She looked to her left just as two of the nurses made a gap enough to see between them.  She could see him clearly now, his face frozen in fear and blood on his stark white shirt.  She reached out her arm as best she could.  Catching his gaze, he took that as a signal.  He rushed forward with his hand out, struggling to touch her hand.  Nurses shouted at him to stay back but he persisted, just barely connecting with her fingertips.  She felt the familiar skin against hers, causing tears to stream down her cheeks.

“Richard,” she called out, holding fast to his hand.  He tightened his grip.  Two men came up behind him and grabbed him by both arms, prying him away from her.  He fought them, kicking his legs and straining to touch her hand again.  Their fingers grazed one another, giving him the mildest of tingling sensations, but it was fading fast.

_The memories came flooding back.  She was on her way to the bookshop that day.  He was supposed to meet her there that afternoon since she had a few appointments to keep beforehand.  She strode up the sidewalk, swaying her head to the song that filled her heart that day.  It was a happy little ditty that always brought a smile to her face.  It was a crisp autumn day and the smell of fallen leaves was in the air.  She let her hand linger on her growing belly.  It wouldn’t be long before she could give him the greatest gift of all.  She stopped across the street from the shop.  He was already there, looking charming as always.  His smile broadened when he spotted her, and he mouthed the word ‘chickadee’ to her.  She laughed as she looked both ways and started to cross.  She was halfway across when a car having run the light, came speeding at her.  She saw the smile disappear from his face, and he was charging towards hers.  She glanced sideways just in time to see the car.  She heard the tires squeal before the darkness closed in._

“EMMA!!! NO!!!” he wailed.  He continued to struggle, trying to shrug the men off.  His sneakers were not giving him the traction he needed on the glossy floor, giving them the upper hand.  They pushed him out of the room and secured the door, leaving him to watch helplessly through a small window.  She could see his face, mouth wide open as he howled.  He beat on the door with both fists, occasionally throwing his weight against it to try and gain access.  “EMMA!!!”

_Bang bang bang… Bang bang bang…_

Time seemed to suspend itself for an eternity.  There was an eerie calm that seemed to fall.  He pressed his hands against the window, watching the scene unfold.  She turned her face towards him, and gave him a look that spoke volumes.  His tear stained face contorted, and he clawed at the window frantically.  She reached out to him one last time before closing her eyes, a flame extinguished.  Someone checked their watch and noted the time.

“NOOOOO!!!”

He slid to the floor, clutching at his hair.  He didn’t know how long he stayed there until the doctor came for him.  He heard the words of condolence but didn’t acknowledge them, letting them slip away like sand through his fingers.  Someone came and slipped something into the palm of his hand.   He looked down to find a silver wedding band, the one he had slipped on her finger the day she took his name.  He pressed it to his lips, still choking on his tears.  He had come undone.

“My… chickadee,” he wept.


	8. September Skies

-Chapter 8-

He walked slowly down the well-tread path, keeping a close eye on the little girl prancing off ahead of him.  She had never been this way before in her few years of memories, but he had worn the path well every night while she slept under her grandmother’s watchful eye.  The path wound through the woods, sunlight casting its rays through the treetops.  The sound of running water alerted him that they were close.

They emerged from the coverage of the forest into a small clearing.  A large stone outcropping spilled water down its face, making a beautiful pool at its base.   A lone statue stood guard at the edge of its crystal waters.  Many nights he waded out to stand under the waterfall in an attempt to cleanse himself of his inner turmoil.  He tried to fill up the hole that still remained in his heart, but it would only leak out again.  He felt an emptiness that even this little girl and her boundless energy couldn’t help.  He had never felt so small.

He stood at the water’s edge.  It was too cold to wade today.  It was one of the cooler days of autumn.  He looked longingly over at the statue.  He had had it specially carved, an angel.  But it wasn’t an ordinary angel… it was his angel, barefoot in her tee shirt and jeans.  She stood life-sized, wings tucked down behind her.  Long tresses fell down her back as she glanced over her shoulder with a brilliant stone smile, one hand outstretched to him.  He stared at her for some time, eyes brimming with fresh tears.  He wondered if the golden leaves were falling where she was.  He struggled to compose himself when he heard a slight splashing of water.

He looked down to find his little ginger girl lying on her belly at the water’s edge.  She had pulled the sleeves of her woolly up and was up to her elbows in the water.  She looked up at him giving him a funny grin.  Having lost two of her baby teeth already, there were significant gaps.  He gave her a gentle but mournful smile.

“What are you doing down there, kitten?” he asked her softly.

“I’m tickling the fish, daddy!” she exclaimed boisterously.  Her giggles filled the clearing, ringing like a bell.  “And they’re tickling me back!”

She scrambled to her feet, attempting to brush some of the dirt from her clothes.  She rushed to his side and grabbed his hand, swinging it back and forth.  Sensing his sadness, she gazed at him with a look well beyond her years.

“It’s okay, daddy.  I cry sometimes too,” she said quietly.  Her words pained him, causing him to choke slightly.  Still holding his hand, she leaned her head against his arm and stared across the water.  He took a deep breath and calmed himself.

“We came here to do something, didn’t we?” he asked her.  She nodded her head vigorously, causing him to chuckle.  “Did you bring them with you?”

“Yeah,” she answered excitedly, rummaging around in her pocket.  She pulled out a little drawstring bag.  Pulling it open, she shook its contents out into her hand.  She took a moment to make sure they were all there.  “Three.”

“Three?” he inquired, tilting his head and looking confused.  “I only gave you two.”

“I got an extra one from Nana.  One coin is for me.  One is for you.”  She hurried over to the statue, placing a coin in the upturned hand.  “And one is for mummy.  We have to go together… okay?  And no wasting wishes.”

“Alright, kitten.  On three… one… two…”

He flipped his coin and waited to hear the familiar sound of metal on stone.  She threw hers overhand having not mastered the ability to flip a coin.  She was disappointed when it didn’t hit the rocks, but he assured that the wish still counted.  She seemed satisfied with that.

“Time to go.  Nana’s probably waiting for you,” he said as he removed his red wool scarf.  He walked over and wrapped it around his angel’s neck, caressing her stone cheek.  He lightly kissed her eternally smiling lips before whispering, “I love you, chickadee.”

He turned, taking his little one’s hand, and started to leave the clearing.  She squeezed his hand tightly as they walked back up the path.

“Daddy?  What did you wish for?” she asked him, but the look in his eyes told her exactly what he had wished.

“I wished for more time.”  His voice seemed strained.  “And you?  What did you wish for?”

“I wished that you weren’t so sad all the time.”  She paused for a moment.  “Do you think mummy knows what to do with her coin?

“I think mummy knows _exactly_ what to do.”

A sudden gust of wind picked up.  They both turned to look at the entrance to the clearing.  His red scarf was dancing along on the breeze before settling on a tree branch.  They were completely transfixed by the sight of it.  It continued to flap about as it hung there.  A sound, clear as day, echoed from the clearing. It was one he had waited to hear for years, her metal on stone. 

_Ping._


End file.
